That night at his office building was something new for us. We’d spent time together before, but this was the first time I’d stepped into his world, his domain. He’d always been a mystery in some ways, the type of man who lets his actions do most of the talking. But seeing him in his element, walking through his property with ease and ownership, added a whole new layer to the intrigue. He owned the entire building, every room, every corridor, and every detail reflected his success. A driven Black entrepreneur with his hands in more projects than I could probably count. There was a sharpness to him, but it was understated never flashy, never over the top. He had that quiet power, the kind you felt more than saw. And walking through the place with him, it became clear that this wasn’t just another office building. It was a piece of him, an extension of the vision he’d been building for years. When he asked me to meet him there that night, it felt casual, like just another evening together. But the moment I walked inside, I knew it wasn’t going to be a typical night. The building was empty, the faint hum of machines and fluorescent lights filling the air. He showed me around, his voice dipping into a mix of pride and playfulness as he explained the industrial and scientific equipment xxxxtered throughout. Half the terms he used flew over my head, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke, the way he moved through the space like it was his kingdom. “You don’t really care about any of this, do you?” he asked, turning to me with that sly grin I’d come to love. Before I could respond, he added, “It’s okay. That’s not why I brought you here.” His words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. He stepped closer, and suddenly the vast, quiet building felt impossibly small. “I wanted you here because I wanted to taste you,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “And this place… it just felt right.” The industrial setting, with its clean lines and cold edges, was the last place I’d expect intimacy. But somehow, he made it work. There was something thrilling about it, something raw and electric. He had a way of making the unfamiliar feel exciting, of turning the mundane into something unforgettable. Afterward, we lingered. He didn’t rush me out, didn’t glance at his watch or make excuses about needing to lock up. Instead, he leaned back against one of the desks, his shirt half buttoned and his smile lazy. “So, what do you think?” he asked, gesturing around the room. “It suits you,” I said, and I meant it. The building wasn’t just a space; it was a reflection of him his ambition, his drive, his unwillingness to settle for anything less than what he wanted. When he finally locked the doors and we left, he surprised me by asking me if he could come to my place. “Let me stay the night,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And so I did. He followed me to the air bnb I was staying at, knowing I’d see the same self assuredness there, the same ability to make any space his own. That night wasn’t just about us; it was about stepping into his world and seeing how seamlessly he could bring me into it. I made him late for work the next day.